


So what happens after the end of history?

by historyandanime14



Category: CountryHumans, Geography (Anthropomorphic)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Anger, Awkward Flirting, Babies, Banter, Brothers Germany & Prussia (Hetalia), Consent, Cute, Dorkiness, Emotional, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Funny, Happy Ending, Hetalia, Hormones, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27531601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historyandanime14/pseuds/historyandanime14
Summary: Serbia has done it. She manages to grant entrance to the mysterious high tower. What now?
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These stories are neither historic nor dramatic like my other works. They are the left-over stories from my other more serious work Hetalia history (Serbia). Still, they are important to me and hopefully will make people laugh and feel good.

We see a high white tower standing above the flat green area. It is so large and so high, it seems like it towers over the whole world. Serbia observes her from bellow serious. With pressed lips she says: "So this is it?"

The countries behind her nod sad and quiet. Britain, France, Germany and Prussia stand with their arms clasped. They are all wearing their best and acting reserved. Still, their flag colors cannot hide that they wish they could be anywhere else but here.

"Are you sure you want to go it?" Britain says begging in his head for her to change her mind. With her red-white-blue hands she grabs her backpack even tighter. She has worn her best casual white dress and flats for just this occasion. Turning towards the group, she looks at them all again carefully.

"Yes" she says and heads towards the tower.

The area around it is flat and almost empty. There is nothing except the neatly cut green grass and the peaceful blue sky with a few puffy clouds. The birds are chirping as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening.

She takes one more look at the tower and cautiously places her hand on the doorknob. It does not burn her. The doors open easily revealing the spiral staircase. Inhaling deeply, Serbia walks in determined and starts her climb up.

With only the sounds of her footsteps to keep her company, Serbia stops somewhere in the middle gasping for air. It is a very long climb.

Finally at the top, Serbia slams the door open. Inside is a large comfy brownish room, adorned with wooden furniture, furs, trophies and other memorabilia. She looks around at the small brown coffee tables, animal heads, red heavy curtains and golden picture frames. Taking the backpack from her shoulder, she opens it still unusually quiet. Taking a few greyish rectangles, she places them quickly all around the room.

Distributing them evenly on the tables, bookshelves, chairs and other furniture, the lone country sees a photo of England and France from their younger days. They look so happy with their arms around the other's shoulder. Looking at it, her lip twitches. Exhaling, she puts the photo back and places a grey rectangle behind with a slam. She continues what she has been doing even quicker.

The others wait outside, with their necks starting to hurt from looking up all this time. Serbia finally exits and walks towards them slowly. Everything is silent. The four look at each other. Hopeful, Prussia smiles and look in her direction.

The female country takes out a small device with a red button. Staring cold through them, she holds it up before pressing the large button. The countries extend their arms in despair, but it is too late. A loud explosion is heard from the tower.

First the slim walls blow up in four places. The building tilts and slowly falls. The top follows with a much larger bang and it disintegrates in the air. With Serbia still standing tall, what is left of the tower behind her falls as if in slow motion.

The sounds of destruction are followed by the fours' screams of despair. Still, her hand stands up unwavering to their please and threats.


	2. Intermission

A barren like flat terrain. Harsh puff of wind blows over the dusty brown rock formations. As Serbia walks, with multiple versions of her lingering for a moment longer frozen as she walks forward, we hear her reminiscing of all the bad things her haters shouted at her.

"You waste of air!" one screams.

"You insignificant little pest!" cries another voice.

"What have you done?! What have you done!" a third terrified male voice is heard.

Sitting on a smaller rock with her elbows on her knees, she sighs. "My work here is done...Now what?" she thinks melancholic. With a glance at the barren wasteland, we hear the wind blowing further away.

Back home, looking like she normally does, Serbia walks in still deep in thought. "Now that I had that figured out, let's check what happened while I was away" she thinks checking her phone. Clicking the news channel, lots of familiar news pop up. Tired of them, she scowls down and finds a video article with images of terrible floods appears. The stream on the streets carries many things. The head of the country of Philippines appears above the water screaming baffled. She extends her arms above the water and submerges back as the flood carries her away off screen.

Serbia looks at it with raised eyebrows. "What is it with this year? It's like there's a new disaster every minute" she mutters fed up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I like surprises, don't you? :)

The house of Yugoslavia as it was back in the 60s. As the sunrises over the retro furniture, including the large couch in the living room, strange noises become more and more audible. Closing in from the hallway towards the bedrooms, obvious sploshing and squirting sounds can be distinguished. They are intertwined with quiet murmurs and an occasional giggle. A loud squelching sound is heard followed by a disapproving: "No, not that way."

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing" is the reply.

As the door of the largest bedroom opens, 6 nations are on the floor with their hands elbow-deep in wet clay. They mostly seem in a good mood as they model and place it on what seems to be a small humanoid figure. Croatia is carefully shaping the nose to the dissatisfaction of a few others.

"We talked about this. He is not going to have a Roman nose!" Serbia is very vocal as Slovenia and Bosnia and Herzegovina nod in agreement.

Frowning, Croatia continues with his work. "You guys have no taste. With a feature like this every country in Europe will fall beneath his feet" he replies dreamy-eyed.

"But he's a Slav not a Roman!" Bosnia interferes.

"So?" Croatia adds. Macedonia listens annoyed. "I don't think it's that bad. Still, if you ask me a pair of locks would be better... but apparently no one listens to me" she mumbles sarcastic and continues with her work.

As Croatia's hands carefully sculpt the large piece of clay on the little face, Serbia chops off almost half of it with a modelling knife. "Hey" he retorts angry meeting her equally mad gaze.

"It's like your missing the point. He is suppose to look like all of us! Not like anyone else" she declares.

Croatia looks around. "Fine" he says crossing his arms, "But he is wearing my hat."

Serbia rolls her eyes. "If you insist" she says with a sigh.

"What's the problem now? You wanted to put a _šajkača_ on him!" he retorts irritated.

"No! And for your information, I have many other hats" she retorts.

"Guys, guys...Are we done? It's almost 8 o'clock" Slovenia says pointing at the clock.

Serbia looks up surprised. "Oh my God, I have to hurry or I'll be late for work" she says and jumps up running towards the bathroom.

The others stay kneeling in a circle with their hands still dirty. They look at the small statue and then at each other. 

"Might as well finish this later" Slovenia says nonchalantly.

That evening, Serbia returns tired passing the waiting group without saying a word. In her postal uniform, she yawns and closes her door. The others look at each other and shrug. 

In the 70's, the group sits up working on the sculpture until one o'clock at night. "Finally" Slovenia says with a sigh of relief.

"Yeah" Macedonia says wiping some clay off her cheek. Moving back to admire their work, she smiles warmly and adds: "I still think he would look better with locks."

"Please...no more alterations...no more delays. Let's do this now" Serbia adds with visible bags under her eyes. The other sleepy roommates agree. Already sitting in a circle, they take each others hands concentrating. Each one closes their eyes visualising the sculpture's birth. Mentally straining, they bow their heads as their shoulders and arms tremble.

With a loud gasp, the roommates let go off each other disappointed. 

"There's no use. I'm too tired" Bosnia says looking up sad. 

"Me too" Montenegro adds feeling the same. The 6 nations sit without saying a word.

"It's alright. We'll try again tomorrow" Serbia says cautiously. The small figure of a handsome boy stands between them. "Yeah" one says sleepy. "Sure" another adds yawning.

Years have passed and the figure remained like that. With his eyes closed and his body stashed in a dark stuffy place, it has been present during all the commotions of the post-Tito Yugoslavia. "If that's the way your going to be fine! Who needs you anyway!!!" Serbia screams as she slams the door of her room. Scared and emotionally drained, she sits on the floor. Prompting her back against the door, the female figure bursts into tears. The little clay statue remains silent.

And yet, nothing could have prepared the nations for what came in the 90's. Bosnia and Croatia have barged into the house demanding their stuff. As Serbia sits in her room, she is listening to the two grab things from their former rooms, taking everything that is not welded to the ground. She looks sideways nervous.

"Is that all?" Bosnia asks Croatia. 

"I think so" he replies. There is a loud knock on her door. 

"You didn't steal anything while we were away, did you?" Bosnia shouts.

Serbia flinches. "Of course not!" she roars. "Now take your stuff and get out of my house!"

In the present, she sits at the table. Her hands are clasped over her lips. The female country looks towards her room and sighs. 

The door of a closet opens letting the light in. She kneels carefully moving her hanging clothes. In the back is the same small figure of a boy. He stands with closed eyes, his clay dry and cracked.

She takes the statue and places it on the rug. The country then takes out a small modelling knife and a bowl of water. Serbia gently chips away all the dried bits careful not to ruin his gentle features. All day and all night, she works without rest. Still, the lone country enjoys it. She feels liberated, not having to compromise on any of her ideas or reluctantly accept the ideas of others. This is her project and her project alone.

"I'm busy, stop calling" is the reply she gives to numerous phone calls received those days.

On the brick of exhaustion, Serbia let's out a puff or air and looks at her creation. It is a clay boy, with short straight hair parted on the side. His features are flawless. His round cheeks and childlike small mouth make him look like a doll. He is lean with strong arms and legs. Serbia has modelled on him the most fashionable items of clothing she could think off.

She observes him mesmerised. Her eyes water, filled with emotions. 

"My, what a handsome little man you are" she addresses the statue sweetly. With a smile, the female country leans in excited and cues: "Let's wake you up, shall we?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of a new country

An office phone frantically rings. A hand belonging to Germany, takes it. In the office with him is his older brother Prussia. They have been chatting until then.

"Yes. What is it?" he says coldly. The panicked gibber from the other line makes him move the phone handle away.

"I need to speak to Prussia. Do you know where he is?" Serbia adds flustered. The two siblings look at each other confused.

"As a matter of fact" Germany says slowly but quickly changes his tone. "What is this about?!"

"Please, I need to talk to him. It's urgent!" the voice on the line says.

"Serbia, I don't know what can be so urgent that you don't want to tell me first. Now, calm down and start from the beginning" he says in an authoritative tone.

"Damn it Germany! Stop with the word diarrhoea already! This is way too important to be fucked up by the likes of you!" she screams.

He moves the phone from his ear in complete shock.

Prussia takes the call curious. "Yes?" he says carefully. The former country keeps nodding with an occasional hum. Germany observes with wide eyes.

"I see...Alright, I'll see what I can do" Prussia says and calmly end the call. Germany observes him eager to speak.

"What was all that about?" he says surprised by Prussia's calmness. Serious yet serene, Prussia turns and smiles. "Come, we need to hurry" he says grabbing his coat. Germany looks at him baffled. "Why?!" he says.

On the door, Prussia turns still smiling. "There's a new baby country among us." 

Intrigued, Germany quickly follows.

On their way to Serbia's house, France and Britain chat. They both seem happy and yet serious. "This is quiet an unorthodox move, don't you think?" France says.

"I suppose so..." Britain replies calmly. "Still, I'm kind of excited. There haven't been little ones on our continent for a while."

France nods content. "Yes...babies are so cute. I cannot wait to see this one" he adds with starry eyes making his collocutor glare at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You're such a nitwit, aren't you?" Britain says. France blinks confused. With a sly smile, Britain continues: "Think about it. She sounded extremely emotional over the phone...Babies can do that. Making this a perfect time to strike." As he speaks our attention turns to Serbia's concerned face back at her house. "There is no telling what mistakes she will make in such a fragile state" Britain's narration concludes only for Serbia to speak: "Alright guys, listen up. We have a bunch of important countries coming over and I need this place to shine."

The people she has been addressing were her major cities, all of them with a freshly-painted city emblem just for this occasion.

"Leskovac, you take care of the meats. And don't be stingy with the roast" she orders a male though-looking figure. He smiles with his chest out. "No worries boss. You can count on me to make everything finger-licking good."

She listens to him and nods. "Čačak, you stay at the door and take everyone's coats. Place them in the guest room. Jagodina, you help" she turns to them.

"No problem" the male cities say happy.

"And Bor" she says to a moody and sickly looking man. He raises his head and coughs. "You...try smiling" she says slowly.

Serbia turns to her female cities, Novi Sad, Nish (Niš) and Zajechar (Zaječar). "You three take care of the orderbs and the drinks. I don't want to be a single plate empty, okay?" The three nod. Belgrade steps out on his own. He's the largest and the most opinionated of the bunch.

"Of course, I will be the host. Do not threat cause I will personally see that every one of our guests feels my world-wide hospitality" he declares proud not even looking at the others.

Serbia nods while the cities make a face.

Having given everyone directions, the country glances as the small statue in the centre of the living room. With a heavy sigh she says nervous: "Alright, let's do this." 

The cities dispurs, everyone doing their assigned task. Observing them, Nish's expression catches her eye. She comes over checking on her old friend: "Are you okay?"

Pouting, Niš quickly cleans the trays: "Does it look like I'm not okay?"

Her friend observes her agitated quick movements. "A little..." she adds. "Want to talk about it?"

The city looks at her and presses her lips. "Well...since you asked. I honestly can't stand how arrogant Belgrade is. He keeps looking down on us as if we are not even in the same country."

"Don't be like that...Granted, he is a little full of himself, but that's typical for all capitals" Serbia says.

"It still doesn't make it right" Nish answers still in a bad mood. "It would be nice if he at least tried to treat us better. At least the bigger cities." 

Serbia turns to see Belgrade and Novi Sad whispering among themselves in an extremely flirty manner. "I don't know...Those two seem to be getting along nicely" she adds smiling.

Nish rolls her eyes. "Oh please...She looks like a type of girl that would flirt with anyone just for the attention. I mean have you noticed the blouse she has over her black bra? I've seen fishing nets less transparent." she adds scornfully.

Observing her face, the country chuckles. "What?!" her friend says.

Smiling, she leans towards her. "Have you tried being a little nicer to him? Maybe he wouldn't be such a jerk to you if you smiled or complimented him occasionally...You know, showed him that you care..." she adds with a wink.

The city tilts her head insulted. "Are you insinuating that?!...God, you're awful! What on Earth possessed you to even think that?" Nish frown and stops with a gasp. "Unless...you thought of doing such a thing yourself!" she adds astounded.

The confused country arches her head back.

I knew it" Nish says pointing as if she caught a thief. "You probably though off charming someone yourself! Someone powerful enough to make all of your problems go away!" 

"Alright, there is definitely something wrong with you" Serbia says making a face. Still, the city keeps pointing and giggling as if a large conspiracy theory has been formed in her head. "It's actually not a bad plan. We could use all the support we can get." Nish grins and adds: Who is it?".

The already agitated country frowns. "I give you honest advice and I get this crap from you?! Get back to work" she adds before moving away. The city does so unable to hide her excitement about her new theory.

The invited guests, countries from all around the world and a few of Serbia's close friends, come in high spirits. Right from the door they are greeted with kindness and respect. Many ask to be taken to see the statue that sits undisturbed while the interior is decorated as if for a celebration.

Russia hugs Serbia. "Thank you so much for coming" she says.

"No problem. It was about time someone had a party. All these lock-downs were making me get cabin fever" Russia says. He looks around and compliments the host: "I love what you did with the place."

Serbia blushes flattered: "Thanks. It was all last minute...I'm surprised it didn't turn into a sh*fest."

"Don't worry that comes later" Russia jokes to which Serbia nervously chuckles.

"Do you have any animators?" Russia continues.

"Any what?"

"You know...People who come to animate the guests with party games."

Serbia is a little confused by this. "No but I got a great band coming over later" she says and takes out the phone to show him some photos. "Their singer is amazing. Her singing...oh. It can raise from the dead."

Russia scratches his head. She excuses herself to greet the rest of her guests.

"Interesting" Austria says looking over his mysterious book.

"Have you found anything?" Serbia asks looking over his shoulder nervous. Austria flinches closing the book. 

"No...And I don't think I will if you keep breathing down my neck like that" he says irritated.

"Sorry...I'm just antsy about the fact that he hasn't woken up yet."

"Must be because he was in storage for so long" he says and opens up his book again only to shut it as Serbia takes another glance.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" he adds visibly annoyed.

"Actually, I wouldn't mind if you told me where you got that book" she adds curious.

Austria inhails and let's out a heavy sigh. "If I find anything, you will be the first to know!" he adds shooing her away. With a heavy sigh, she attends to her other guests.

Nish keeps glancing at her which annoys the host country. The city keeps popping behind mayor powerful countries only to lock eyes with her and wiggle her eyebrows. Nish pops behind, among others, Russia, France, China, India, Britain, the USA, Germany doing the same thing in a way that they do not notice. Serbia's lip starts twitching and she gestures for her to come.

The city obliges only for her arm to be violently pulled towards Serbia. "I know your my oldest living friend but if you do that one more time, I'm going to claw my fingers into your scalp and tear you in two" she whispers faking a smile for her guests. The city gulps. "Alright...Shish, I was just trying to get your mind off the boy" she whispers. Serbia lets her go to continue with her duties which she does begrudgingly.

Many countries try to work their magic but to no avail. Serbia observes their actions, quietly trembling from all the stress. The African countries try chanting and performing a dance. The South American countries light a fire-hazard worth of candles. Japan meditates and offers the statue some tea. The Vatican prays. So does India. Prussia yells at him for being disobedient and not waking up like a good little boy. Britain and France suggest a ritual that involves a pentagon.

"No, no" the host blurts making an X with her hands.

"Don't be so uptight. It's not what you think" France adds slightly insulted.

"It's not satanic. I promise" Britain adds.

"No...I cannot stress enough how much I hate that idea" she says and turns to see China near the statue.

"Will you please please calm down with the needles!" she says to China who has been performing acupuncture on the clay statue while she was not looking. "You're gonna leave little holes in him" she says unhappy to which the large Asian country exhails and removes them mumbling. The statue stays motionless. Already on the verge of a mental breakdown, she leans her hands on the table. She breaths in heavily as if ready to throw up. Slovakia steps forward and states hesitant: "You don't look so well. You should calm down."

"How can I calm down when my little one is not waking up?" she says fighting back the tears. He places his hand over her arched back and rubs it. "There there" he says soothingly. 

The host country breaths in a few more times in order to relax. "Thank you" she whispers and excuses herself. She sniffs and heads to the first empty room.

The party progresses as many countries chat carefree. Even Britain has a good time as he tries to charm the waitress Novi Sad. You could say that it is a great success except the fact that the main reason for the party has not shown any sighs of life...until now.

Because of the lively atmosphere, no one hears the cracking of the clay at first. His little nose wiggles as little flakes peel from his eyes and forehead. His chubby hands stretch out their fingers. One of the waitresses notices and drops her tray from shock. The others look alarmed and are amazed by what they see.

Serbia's old secretary, enters the room she is in without knocking. Serbia is there lying in a fetal position on the ground with two silent streams emerging from her eyes.

"Come quick!" the old woman yells excited. Serbia jumps up wiping her eyes. "He's awake" she adds making the country run out. She passes all the other individuals there and observes the event outside herself with joy. Once the child has completely shed his outer shell, he looks at her. The countries observe him amazed by his good-looks. He has shiny dark-brown hair and radiant flawless skin. His large chestnut eyes observe the world around him with innate curiosity. He notices Serbia who is kneeling near him smiling and crying at the same time.

"You're perfect" she whispers with wide watery eyes. With a big smile, he extends his little arms towards her and waddles over. Serbia's arms stretch out as the tiny boy falls into her embrace. She holds him tight, pressing her face onto his soft hair with a serene smile on her face.

All of the guests aw at the sigh. Serbia moves away and gets an ancient looking box. Wiping away her tears she opens it and takes out a stick. "This was give to me when I was born. It was meant to make me a good and strong leader for my people. Now I am giving it to you" she says giving it to the toddler. He takes it with both hands still not letting out any sounds. "Once you are grown up. You will take over my duties as a nation of this country. May you lead our people well" she says ceremoniously.

She slowly moves so her guests can gift the boy as well. Everyone approaches the child in a friendly manner offering their blessings and trinkets. The boy is very soon covered from head to toe in simple toys, flowers, robes and even some wooden weapons. There are some very original gifts too.

Malasyia offers a compass saying: "May you always find your way."

Moldova smiles and takes out a bottle of his own wine from his tattered coat. "May you enjoy life like a fine wine" he says sincerely giving him the bottle.

France scoffs and raises his nose. "I can only imagine what is his definition of _fine wine._ Better take that bottle away from the boy before it makes him sick" he says mockingly to the host country next to him. 

"Actually, Moldova's wine is really good. The taste is nice and it's affordable" Serbia says. The EU country frowns and approaches the boy. With a charming smile, he kneels as a beautiful rose appears in his hand. The screen turns bright and numerous rose pedals fly around. "May you charm the pants of anyone you are attracted to" France says giving the rose to the boy. Leaning forward he whispers something into the toddler's ear: "And grow up fast little one. Your mother is beginning to be a real torn in my eye." The petals fall as the screen returns to normal.

The former nations of Yugoslavia approach him one by one. Croatia stands back sulking. Britain notices and stands next to him. 

"Penny for your thoughts" he says calmly.

Croatia sighs upset: "I can't believe she changed all the details I modelled. I mean, she didn't even ask."

"Fear not" Britain replies. "I consider this to be an excellent turn of events."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for one thing, it means that Serbia will soon stop being a country. Her successor is still young. Perhaps he will see things differently" Britain says delighted by the thought. Croatia observes him seriously. "How can we be sure of that? What if he is even worse?"

"Wait and see, my friend. Wait and see" Britain adds menacingly sipping his drink.

The band has arrived and the party is in full swing. Serbia carries the boy around on her hip. Turkey comes over to pinch his cheek: "What a cute little man you are. How about you come over to my place this summer? I'll show you some great beaches. I'll even teach you how to use a sword."

She instinctively moves the boy away and frowns at the former Ottoman Empire. "What...Too soon?" he asks baffled. Greece is next in line to shake his little hand.

Prussia sheds a tear watching them. "Why are you crying?" Germany, who is next to him, adds.

"This reminds me of the time you were little" he says to his grim and maybe even a little jealous younger brother. 

In a flashback, we see Prussia and his brothers standing in the circle as the newly-born baby Germany stands in the middle. They all present to him a toy mechanism confusing him slightly. The brothers chant in unison: "May you be orderly and organised."

"That explains a lot" a female voice interrupts the image which pops out of existence as Serbia's serious face becomes visible.

"Ah, there you are. Congratulations on your newborn. I think he will make a great addition to the EU family" Germany says ceremonious yet still a little mad. The two remain silent as Prussia cues to the child.

"So..." he continues after a pause.

"I still mean what I said" Serbia blurts.

Frustrated, he replies: "Never the less, I am willing to look that over because of this special circumstance...Have you thought about tutors for your child?"

"No...he is still not even talking" she says.

"The earlier you start the better. I am willing to make room in my schedule for his EU classes. Perhaps three times a week will do the trick" he continues ignoring her glare. He looks at the boy and extends his arms towards him. "Come child, let's hear you speak" he says rigidly to the boy.

The child looks at his mother whose glare intensifies. Germany starts feeling uncomfortable. Looking into her eye, it is as if he has been transported into a different reality. There is nothing there but the two of them and a wall. The very same wall she pins him too with freakish strength.

"Now look here" she snarls holding his lower jaw and neck tight. "Don't even think about treating my child as you do me. Your days of ruining other countries for your fragile little ego are over! No one is willing to tolerate your failures any longer" she says with crazy eyes as Germany struggles to at least loosen her grasp. He frantically kicks his legs but cannot reach her. Serbia grinds her teeth in quiet anger. "This is so you know how serious I am" she says as we hear cracking. His jaw bones are broken making him yell out in pain. With her hand still bloody, she holds his neck tight. With her other arm she grabs what is left of his head and rips it out from his body without breaking a sweat.

Back at the party, Germany shakes off a very unpleasant feeling while still in the same position. It seems that barely a millisecond has passed. Serbia says goodbye and walks away. Prussia waves to the boy as Germany starts feeling some inexplicable pain in his jaw. "Did you hear how she spoke to me?" Germany says astounded.

"Don't pay any attention. It's her swan song. Let her have it" Prussia says calmly. 

The party continues deep into the night.


	5. Afterparty afterthought

As all the guests have left, Serbia carries the little sleeping boy to his bed. Her old assistant accompanies her. As the country places him into a crib, the two women watch him slip.

The assistant addresses her former boss with a serene smile. "Seeing him like this reminds me when my children were yet born. I still remember how overflown with emotions I was."

"Really" Serbia says happy.

"Yes...I kept thinking about the business trip you took me when you went to Asia. Do you remember when we visited those large Buddhist statues."

"Why?"

The old woman continues with a warm smile. "When I cradled my babies in my arms, I always wondered how they felt...Being tossed into this unfamiliar world so helpless and small. Being carried around, feeling the warmth on their caretaker's skin, seeing faces that are as big as their entire body. I would often ask myself, if humans subconsciously carry those impressions throughout their lives? If that is the reason many imagine God as a benevolent being large enough for us to enjoy the warmth of his enormous cheek and wide smile."

Serbia listens carefully. There is a quiet knock on the door and her current assistant quietly enters. "Sorry...Grandma, are you ready to go?"

The old woman nods and leaves the country with a pat on the shoulder. The tired Serbia continues to watch her flawless boy. 

"Sleep tight my little angel. And don't you threat. Mommy is going to take really good care of you" she whispers and touches his little finger before going to bed .


	6. Chapter 6

"Here comes the airplane" Serbia's smiling face holds a tiny spoon. Her very young successor wiggles in his chair happy as his little hands are extended towards his caretaker. The female country moves the spoon with food making plane noises. "Phyu, phyu, open up" she cues gently placing it into his mouth. The little guy opens it even wider making him look even cuter. With a great big chomp, the spoon head disappears, sending a pink electric signal through the handle into Serbia's arm which instantly reaches her heart. With dazed eyes and a frozen smile, she falls to the ground like a statue. 

As the child happily munches, the female country rolls around on the floor of the kitchen from one side to the other, disappearing in some instances off-screen. "Oh my God!" she yells ecstatic. Disappearing for a second, Serbia pops with giddy hands screaming: "HE'S SO CUUUUUTE!"

Quickly returning to the feeding chair, a phone rings. "What is it now?" she replies annoyed.

The caller gulps before hesitantly saying: "It's me. How are things going with the baby?"

"Fine" she says in a neutral tone still feeding the child. 

"Good. Everyone here at the EU headquarters sends their regards. For some reason, Germany told me to call you and asks if you are now, how should I put this...in a less murderous mood" her assistant continues.

Serbia smirks. "Only if provoked" she adds calmly.

"Oh...alright then" the assistant replies.

"So tell me...What has been happening these few days I wasn't around?" 

"Well, Covid 19 is spreading like wild fire. Kosovo* is acting up again..."

"That's not really new, is it?" Serbia continues talking on the phone while making faces to make the child laugh. He giggles and tries to take the spoon from her hand. 

"Well, yes and no. They are not letting our officials into the area and are creating a situation where people don't feel safe" the assistant says with a sigh.

"Ah the classic" Serbia says teasing the little guy with the spoon.

"The worst part, your brother Montenegro is doing the same. He doesn't let his own people into his country."

Serbia is baffled. She moves away from the feeling chair. We still see the child, grabbing the spoon happy and feeding himself.

"Well, at least there is not a another war" Serbia says pacing.

"Actually..." her assistant retorts. The country groans.

"Ethiopia has a little territory problem. Their Prime Minister said to the citizens, and I quote: "Do not let a few separatist money-hungry warmongers use you as a human shield..."

Unimpressed, the country replies: "And?"

"Nothing, I just thought that was a good quote" her assistant adds calmly. As they are talking, the little boy climbs out of his chair bored and starts running around with his hands covered in food.

"Hey, stop that" Serbia says to him. 

"Is everything alright?" is herd on the other end.

"Yes...No, no, no!" she says in a high pitched voice as the child makes circles around her laughing and trying to touch her with his dirty fingers.

"So, will you make a statement on any of these or..." the assistant asks carefully.

"You go wash your hands like a good boy or your tushy's gonna get it!" Serbia says semi-strict as her assistant listens. "Maybe I should call another time" she says and end the call.

The country puts the phone away and moves into a predator position. "Oh oh...Looks like someone woke up the tickle monster" she yells playfully. The boy squeaks and runs away joyfully as she follows him making growling noises.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some references here you won't understand if you didn't read my Hetalia history (Serbia) story

Serbia looks at someone sad. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" she says to Russia. He is placing a large and small travel bag into a car with her 6-year-old-looking boy next to him.

"Don't worry. I'll take good care of him. And besides you can use a break too. Taking care off a child an entire month must be exhausting" he says with empathy. Still, she observes them melancholic. "They do grow up fast...To fast in this case" she adds.

Her friend looks at the boy and back at her. "You're kind of right. You should check why that is." With her arms folded, the mother has a flashback. In it Austria leans in presenting the toddler with some berries. "This will help you grow wiser and stronger. May you quickly take your rightful place in the world!" he says to the child delighted. Back, Serbia mutters: "Damn it! I knew I shouldn't have invited him." 

The boy comes over and hugs her. "Don't worry, mom. It's going to be fun going to the mountains with uncle Russia" he says all cute and happy. She smiles and caresses his rich and shiny hair. "If you say so honey. See you in two weeks. The boy runs towards the car as Russia pats him on the head. Once inside the car, he waves to his caretaker who watches them drive away. She sighs and goes inside to an empty empty house.

The next day, at the EU cafe, Switzerland sits at a table writing something in his notebook. He is extremely focused on his work, going over the pages adding passages if needed. "What on Earth do you have written in that thing" a sudden voice startles him.

Looking up, he sees Serbia, in a casual outfit, carrying a drink. "Oh, I...I didn't see you there" he says still a little shaken. Except them, the cafe is almost empty. "It's okay. I'm sorry for interrupting... Are those your patient's notes?" she says.

"No, no" he says hastily and pushes the notebook back into his bag. "What brings you here on a work day?"

Serbia looks away and sighs. "My boy went on a ski trip so I pretty much don't have anything else to do. What about you?"

"Oh, I took a day off to do my Christmas shopping. This way I can get the items I want at a discounted price" he says friendly. 

"Smart" Serbia says nodding. She looks at a couple of decorative bags near his leg. "Planning to continue after lunch?"

Switzerland moves his collar nervous. "No, I'm pretty much done."

"Oh, I see" Serbia smiles nervously. After an awkward pause, he finally says: "Would you like to join me?"

"Okay...Are you sure you don't mind?" she says.

"No, please. I'm not waiting for anyone."

Serbia sits down placing her drink on the table. She takes a sip as Switzerland struggles to keep the conversation going. "Drinking alcohol so early in the day?" he blurts.

Serbia looks at him unfazed. "Actually, I'm indulging myself before the Christmas fast starts. My stake will be arriving soon."

"Isn't it a little early for a Christmas Fast?" he says intrigued.

"Not really. It starts at the end of November up until Orthodox Christmas in January" she says nonchalantly.

"What?!"

Serbia chuckles at his reaction. "Weren't you ever curious how, in the past, I always had so much livestock for sale around this time of year?"

"Well, I never really thought of you being vegan. You don't seem the type" he stutters.

With her lunch arriving she continues happy: "Don't worry. It's not mandatory. It's becoming popular with my people so I decided to try it out again. It's not easy though. Do you know how many times I ordered an espresso with milk by accident? Oh and I totally plan to get plastered for all the major holidays."

A little giggly, Switzerland orders and they continue talking over a meal.

After a while, Serbia looks at her glass in a good mood. "Hey, do you wanna hear a joke?"

"Sure."

"It's not just a joke. It's all Serbian jokes in 1"

Curious, he listens.

"There were a Brit, a Bulgarian, a Frenchmen and a Serb in a plane" she start already chuckling.

"And?" he asks cold but curious.

"And I don't remember the rest but the Serb outsmarted them all" she says nonchalantly and sips her drink.

Her collocutor blinks.

"It's a funny joke" she smiles.

"Believe me, I'm laughing on the inside" he says dead serious.

She points a little shy. "I can't tell if your sarcastic or not. You should probably give me a hint when you're joking."

He arches back. "How is the situation with Covid 19 at your place?" the question is finally raised.

She sighs and puffs. "Do we really need to talk about that?"

"Aren't you worried about your future? It's impossible you can be so calm. Especially at this point in time."

"Alright, fair point...But why are you so anxious about the future? Nothing bad is going to happen to you" she says sincere and takes a sip.

There is a short pause before she continues: "I'm more concerned that my boss suggested that I take a leave of absence."

Switzerland raises his eyebrow. "Told you to take a leave of absence? Is that wise now with this entire situation?"

"Yeah. No, but...We have different views on a few issues. Especially the virus part...He basically took me off the decision making committee. I guess if all of the decision makers don't completely agree on every single detail, it all falls apart like a house of cards" she says slightly bitter.

Switzerland shrugs completely understanding the situation. "What can you do? That's how the game of international politics is played" he says used to it.

"Sounds more like a cheat to me..." she says and drinks her alcoholic drink. "Do you have any idea how many little businesses have been affected by this? Not to mention wedding planners and tourist agencies. Winter vacation will be soon and no one really knows if they will survive the season or not" Serbia continues a little preoccupied with her thoughts.

Switzerland listens and nods. "Many suffer all over the world."

"I was thinking, I can use this free time to research how to make my place more appealing to tourists. Maybe modify my ski resorts..."

"Oh. That's a great idea. You should try making them more like my resorts. I can make some suggestions" he interrupts.

Surprised, Serbia blinks. "I don't think I'm ready for that. Your place is way too high a mark for such a short amount of time. I was thinking something that is in my price range but has a slightly better international appeal. But thank you so much for offering!"

"Too bad" he adds serious.

"You can come along to advise me. If you are still interested that is" she says a little hesitant. After some pondering, the mountainous country nods coldly. "Very well. Send my secretary all the information and I'll make room in my schedule." 

"Um, I should point out that I don't have a lot of money to..."

"Don't worry about it. I'll only bill you if the room service is terrible" he says as his pressed lip moves upward. She chuckles seeing he is not serious.

After the meal, he gets his notebook out and continues writing.

Serbia prepares to leave. "Well, see you on the slopes. Bye."

"See you" he says and remembers something. "While there, would you like a complimentary psychiatric session? I believe you cancelled our last one."

"Not really. No offence, but your not very good at it" she adds with a monotone voice, leaving the still-sitting male country in shock. As she walks away, the waiter country Prussia comes. He has taken over his younger brother's duty because of the other more important responsibilities he had. Prussia has been observing them this whole time. The no longer existing country stares at Switzerland as he tries to ignore him. With a heavy sigh, he stops writing and addresses Prussia with an annoyed: "Yes?"

"Nothing, I thought you only dated models" Prussia says confused. "It is not a date!" he says as the waiter looks at the cafe door. 

"She can pass, I guess. She's thin enough. A little short though. A little less catwalk, a little more fashion catalogue" he concludes his assessment.

Irritated and with a big vein pulsating on his head, he yells: "It's not a date! Now go away and let me finish my work!" As Prussia shrugs and leaves, Switzerland groans and mutters something about nosy people.


	8. Hot water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here I will explain my favourite Serbian phrase. I don't know if the story is a 100% accurate but it explains the phrase wonderfully. If you have anything similar in your language, please leave a comment.

A blank white area. America's head pops up. He has his flag on his face and his trademark sunglasses. Trotting to the middle, the narrator addresses him: "Hello. How are things?"

The country smiles and sighs through his teeth: "Could be better."

The narrator continues: "I heard about your elections. Honestly, I don't know why you just can't have a second election with only two most voted candidates. That's what all European countries do."

America inhails ready to explain all of it but the narrator interrupts: "It's fine. It's not like you can't find all of it online." A little offended the red white and blue country pulls up his glasses: "Then why did you bring me here?"

After a pause, the narrator continues: "Your NASA program is pretty good."

"Thanks" he says with his chest out. "I invested a lot in it." On one side of the screen, 3 countries, Japan, Germany and Russia appear. Japan gets something small and cylindrical out of his kimono. "What you got there buddy?" America asks curious.

"This is a pen" Japan replies calmly. America puts back his glasses confused.

"Do you remember that you had to think of a way to allow astronauts to write in space?" the narrator asks.

"Sure do. Boy, that was a long time ago. A regular pen proved unreliable. The ink wouldn't flow because of the lack of gravity. We invented a new pen with pressure in the cartridges so that the ink could be ejected. It cost an arm and a leg but it was worth it."

Russia facepalms himself and shakes his head.

"What's your problem?" America asks agitated. Russia puts his hand in his pocket and takes out a simple old-fashioned pencil (not a mechanical one, just a simple wooden school pencil). The Western country is dumbfounded. His lip twitches.

The narrator warns calmly: "Watch out for the letters." America turns towards the screen while the three other countries run away. The sound of something heavy falling alarms the USA who looks up, screams and quickly moves away off-screen. The big bold letters fall one by one forming a line: "To invent hot water."

"And that dear readers is what this phrase means. Looking for a complicated new solution to something that can easily be fixed the old fashioned way."

Everything is silent again. There is nothing but an empty white area and the big letters in the middle.


	9. Chapter 9

At a 3 star hotel, somewhere outside Europe a slender female hand gives her credit card to the concierge. The two travelling countries have blended in with the crowd of the ski resort both in outfit and appearance.

Switzerland is next to her pouting with his hands crossed. "I still don't understand why you just didn't want to go to my place? I have a couple of vacation houses you could have come as my guest."

Turning towards Serbia, he sees her astounded face: "That came out wrong, sorry."

She turns towards the concierge and continues: "Two rooms please." Getting the keys, she addresses her co-traveller: "I think this place is promising. I can't wait to learn more about it."

"Yeah, well. I saw better" he answers still in a bad mood. She looks around feeling a little guilty. "The view seems nice... Hey and look. We've got company!" she says and waves away.

Confused, Switzerland looks in that direction. His eyes meet with Norway's, Sweden's, Iceland's and Finland's baffled expressions. They have just returned from skiing.

"Great, just my luck" the cranky European country thinks, becoming nervous when he sees them walk over.

"What are you doing here" she asks the 4 north countries friendly. The four friends look at each other. "We are here..." Norway starts.

"On a secret diplomatic mission" Finland interrupts.

"Yes" Sweden says with an emotionless expression. "We are definitely not here to take a break from all the chaos waiting for us back home." Norway and Finland glare at him nervous. The awkward pause is broken by Iceland: "I just tagged along for the ride, to be honest."

Seeing Switzerland approach begrudgingly, their gaze turns to him. The mountainous country turns red from all the attention.

"Are you two together?" Sweden asks.

"No" Switzerland protests panicking.

Serbia answers with more composure: "I wanted to check this place out and he was kind enough to accompany me." The four Nordic countries nod but keep staring at Switzerland, making him even more uncomfortable.

A few days later, the European countries are skiing, enjoying the slopes. There are many other skiers with colourful winter gear making the white surface look as if a wiped cream cake covered in sprinkles. Serbia reaches the end of the track as Norway follows. They start chatting and go to the ski lift together.

"Can I ask you something? You remind me a lot of Byzantium's Varangian guard. Are you two related?"

"Probably" Norway says. "It's a large family. For her next question, Serbia ponders whether to ask it.

"Can I ask you another weird question?"

A little confused, Norway looks at her and ums.

Looking over her shoulder, she whispers: "I know it's a little private but...Are you by any chance a girl pretending to be a boy?

Norway looks at her baffled and silent.

"Because if you are I can relate. I went through a similar thing" Serbia says trying to sound helpful.

"No" he replies still serious. The female country slouches embarrassed. "Alright then. Forget I asked" she say making the rest of the ride pretty awkward.

After skiing for an hour or two, Serbia excuses herself and heads back to the hotel. The boys continue with their snow shenanigans relatively having a good time.

Back at the hotel Serbia sits at the lobby holding her phone up. Her boy is on the line, looking like an angel with his brown jacket and hair being covered in tiny snowflakes. "This place is great Mom. I'm having so much fun."

"I'm happy to hear that. Are you eating well? Wearing warm clothes?" she smiles.

"Yes. What about you? How's the research going?"

"Good. I discovered that we don't we should probably add more vegetarian options to the menu. Considering the amount of all the meat and dairy free dishes I'm surprised someone didn't think of it sooner."

"That's a good point" he says and remembers something.

"What's wrong?" she asks worried.

"I don't know if I should tell you this..." he says patting his head.

"Honey, what ever it is you can tell me. We'll solve it together."

"Well" he starts hesitant. "The boss called to ask me if I would like to take your place in the decision committee..."

Serbia acts cool, quietly inhailing from her nostrils. "And what did you tell him?"

"I told him I'm not ready yet. I'm still a kid and need more time to gain experience. Learn how the world works. And besides, that's still your position" he says sincerely. His mother smiles, with her heart filled with pride.

Russia's shout is heard. "There you are" he says and waves at Serbia on the other end. She says hi and before she can add anything else Russia speaks: "Come, there's a whole in the ice perfect for swimming."

"What?" she utters bewildered. "Russia, don't you take me boy swimming in a frozen lake, you hear!"

"Relax. All the children here do it" the big country replies carefree. "Go, I'll b right there" the boy says.

"Sweetie, listen to me. I know I said Russia is our friend, but you don't have to do everything he says. He can be crazy sometimes, especially in winter!" she whispers concerned.

"It's okay, really. I don't mind the cold" the boy says with a fake smile. 

"Are you sure?"

"Yes" he replies only slightly hesitant. "Bye, Mom" he says and end the call.

"Bye" she whispers. Placing the phone down, she looks outside seeming serene. "He's gonna be such a good country one day" she says teary-eyed.

The male countries return. Norway is telling a story: "...And as he was about to freeze to death, one of our countrymen came into the cottage with his trusty skis. Turns out the American has never seen a pair of them before. Despite living through harsh winter."

"Hmm, I can't even imagine how many pioneers died trudging in knee-deep snow just because no one thought to tie two flat sticks on their feet" Sweden comments stoically. The other's nod along with Switzerland. He is not overjoyed with their company but does not dislike them either. They served their purpose and made the vacation slightly more tolerable. As they walk through the lobby, they plan a hiking trip to the top of the nearby dangerous peak. The entire group seems excited.

"What about you? Are you coming?" Iceland asks the neutral country. Confused, Switzerland says: "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Isn't your companion going to mind?" Iceland continues looking at the female nation chatting with the waitress, enjoying some hot wine. "Oh" Switzerland says forgetting for a second the reason he was here. Pondering, he explain casually: "I'm sure she'd love to come. In fact, I'm going to ask her right now."

Walking up, she greets him with a smile. "Hey, how's it going?" she says.

"Great, great. Listen, me and the boys made plans to go to that mountain peak tomorrow. Do you want to come?" he says pointing with his head.

Serbia looks out at the snowy tops with a concerned expression. "I don't know. I was thinking of checking the spa and massage parlour. You know, for research purposes." 

He shrugs and says calmly: "Understandable. Trudging through snow is tiring. And it is cold outside... Oh well, have a nice rest. See you?" 

She makes a face slightly offended: "You think I won't go because of the cold?"

Switzerland turns and smiles mischievously. His trap has worked. "It's fine, really. Lot's of people don't like mountain climbing. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

She stands up and slams the glass offended. "I'll have you know I walked through the most inhospitable freezing terrain during winter in my pig-skin shoes. There is no mountain I can't handle."

He looks at her innocently. "Sooo you're coming then?" he acts confused.

"Damn straight I am" she says mad and sits back grabbing her phone. 

"Great! See you in the morning" he says and goes to his room to rest. The Nordic countries go to the sauna. She sits still scrolling. "Bah, they were probably on horse steroids or something" she mutters reading a news about an unexpected sport victory. Iceland stands by her table smiling. "Hi, thought you could use some company" he says.

"That would be nice" she replies friendly.

After chatting for a while, Iceland asks: "So are you more of a mountainous or valley country?"

"To be honest, I'm a little bit of both. How about you?"

"Oh, I'm one-half the freezing cold and one half volcanoes. In a way I'm the epiphany of The Song of Ice and Fire, " he jokes. 

With a chuckle, his collocutor replies: "Plus Vikings, am I right? That must be interesting."

"Yeah" Iceland says faking a smile.

Thinking of something, she asks: "Have you and your friend ever thought of making a Viking tour?" she asks.

Iceland smiles nervous. "Maybe. Is that something you are interested in?"

"Not really. I found the whole thing pretty barbaric. I'm glad I avoided it."

"Oh" Iceland says and yawns.

"I'm getting tired myself" she replies.

"Yeah. We should rest. We need our strength for tomorrow."

"Yes. See you" she says and they wave goodbye.

The next day, the group goes out as planned. It's colder than usual and seems the storm is approaching. That does not detain the group. They are all rigid countries after all. In full gear, they climb two-thirds when the wind really starts to blow. Switzerland is the first in line, feeling pretty good about himself. He holds a long stick that resembles a shepherd's proud as if remembering how he used to hike long distances when he was younger. His reminiscing is interrupted with a sudden tap on the shoulder. Annoyed, he turns to see Norway looking at him serious.

"Somethings wrong with Serbia" he says. 

"How fun" he mutters angry and turns. "Why are you telling me about it? For the last time. We're not..."

"You're her shrink, aren't you? Take a look, I think it's something serious" Norway replies. The Nordic countries move only for him to see that Serbia has hid in a stone dent. With snow above her head forming a roof, she shivers from head to toe squatting. The back of her coat presses the cold stone surface. Her face is distorted from pain as her hands tightly hold her shins. The path in this part is very narrow so Switzerland has to move carefully, pass all the others and reach her. The storm becomes so strong that almost nothing can be heard.

"What's wrong?" he asks concerned putting his bag as a shield against the wind. Hyperventilating, she manages to utter: "I can't feel my fingers. I can't feel my toes. I have frostbites!" He takes a better look and sees her warm gloves and jacket. He takes off his glove and touches the back of her neck. It feels warm. 

The sudden touch makes her scream like crazy: "Don't push me please! I want to live! I want to live!"

Intrigued, Switzerland calms his voice and starts: "Where are you?"

"Prokletije" she gasps through tears. "My fingers are falling off. I can feel them rattling" she utters and frantically takes off her gloves. He hastily grabs her hand and puts them back on. "They will if you expose them to the elements like that" he yells unprofessionally. The others can do nothing but observe.

"You're such a fool!" she yells recognising him for a moment. "We're all going to die here! We'll fall on the sharp rocks bellow just like the rest!" she yells covering her ears.

"What do you hear?" he asks calm.

Still breathing heavily, she cries: "I hear the screams of all that fell. I hear peasant begging for help, children starving, I hear soldiers cursing my name." 

"PTSD" her companion whispers and hits himself in the forehead. As the crouched country cries and shivers, he puts his arm around her shoulders. "Listen to me. You are not going to die. Your fingers are fine. We will get off this mountain and soon you will be enjoying that tiny salt room they dare call a spa" he says in a reassuring voice.

The only reaction his joke gets is silent sobbing. Pondering, he gets his earbuds out of his bag and gently puts them in her ears. He then takes his phone and clicks on the relaxing sounds of the beach. She stops trembling as much. With a sigh of relief, she leans back relaxed.

"We're safe" she whispers with her eyes closed.

"Yes" Switzerland smiles. "Soon the ships will be here. They will take you to safety...Tell me what you see" he says with his arm still around her shoulders.

"I see the people sunbathing in the sun. They're all lying on the beach... Some might even be dead" she says as her smile turns into a frown.

"It's alright. Think of the ally ships. Think of the sun. Enjoy the rays" he continues. With her eyes still closed, she leans in on his shoulder. Switzerland feels a little awkward but lets her get comfortable. She falls asleep a moment later, letting him sit there with his shoulder occupied. After enough time passes, the group manages to bring her back to the hotel.

A few day later, Switzerland insists to accompany her home to which she spitefully obliges by taking the bus. It's evening when the bus leaves them at the station. The two countries are ceremoniously serious. "So. What's on your mind?" Serbia finally breaks the silence.

"You could have told me that snow storms and mountains are your triggers" he blurts with his hands in his pockets. "Why? So you could tell your brothers my weak points?" she mutters bitter.

Bewildered, he replies: "Is that what you think I wanted to do?!... Do you know the number of sketchy people who come to me for baking services? Trust me, I can keep a secret" he says angry.

"Well, in that case you're a much better banker than a therapist" she adds pouty. "And you even f*cked up in your main job on several occasions."

Swaying his head, he adds: "You make one mistake!"

"Two, if you're counting this one" she adds spiteful.

The mountainous country sighs as they reach her door saying nothing. "Alright, I admit I made a few minor mistakes. I'm vain and boring and everyone keeps teasing me about my neutrality" he starts getting emotional. Serbia turns to him and adds softly: "Please don't misunderstand. I'm not implying that you are bad... It's your attitude. You're just too stuck in your ways."

Switzerland expects her to retaliate with her issues, but apparently she is too tired for that. The female country sighs. "Until our next chance meeting" she says quietly and waves. As Serbia closes the door, her companion whispers: "It doesn't have to be a chance meeting."

Melancholic, he bows his head, turns and walks away.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The passing of the countryhood

A while later, sooner than expected, a grand ceremony of passing the statehood was organised. Many countries far and near came to witness this rare event. In the past, the elders were often too weak to go through with the ceremony. Some assume that this was a reason that the boy, still a teen, would accept his duties so early. 

The ceremony was held, by the wishes of Serbia, in the Temple of Saint Sava. It had enough room for their many guests but most importantly - it looked the part. Dressed in a lovely white gown she waits for her successor to pass the long passage and approach here. The boy, looking no older than 13, walks slowly holding his head high. Once at the centre of the room, she takes a brush from her make-up kit and carefully draws their nation's flag on his face as calming music is played. 

"Hurry up already. This is taking forever" Albania says with folded arms.

"Now now. No need to rush. This will all be over soon" Britain leans in and whispers in her ear. She nods with an eager smile. As Britain approaches the next Balkan country ready to do the same, he is surprised to find his lips being covered by someone's hand. The hand angrily pulls him back. He can feel America's close to his ear.

"Trying to start WW3, are you?" he says through his teeth. Britain manages to free himself only to turn at his younger apprentice. "How dare you! Just wait when your boss hears about this!" he whispers angry. 

"I did. He hates your guts and can't wait to send the likes of you to jail" America replies without a hint of fear.

"I meant your other boss! The one that was elected this year, remember!" he snares.

"Oh that" America replies carefree. "He won't be in charge until January and even then...I really doubt he will be able to do much. After all, the President is not the only person with power."

Britain looks at him shocked.

"See, that's what these smaller countries don't know. Many previously important people don't hold that much influence in Washington any more. And also, I live in the land of the free, which means that if enough people want something done, they can nag the hell out of their legislators and get it."

Britain scoffs and wants to walk away but America extends his arm into a sudden and very close hug. With a grin and a friendly tone, he tells him: "You stay here where I can keep an eye on you, okay? Don't cause any fuss." His grip is so tight that Britain can't even breath.

On the other side, the cities observe their former and new country. Some are anxious, others relaxed. Belgrade looks a little too calm. He yawns bored making his peers annoyed.

"I can't believe it. How can he be so carefree about this?" Zrenjanin says to nearby Novi Sad.

"Maybe he thinks this will not affect him because he is so popular" Krushevac whispers frowning.

"Seriously, it's like he's his own entity" Vranje mutters.

All of the larger cities talk quietly as a thought cloud forms above their heads. Inside it, Belgrade appears smiling confident. He states: "Sounds like a great idea. I'll get back to you with that in a decade or two. Or, in this century...Perhaps. But I will reply. Don't worry about it." 

The floating figure disappears only to reappear with a more serious expression. "I honestly don't know why you just can't do that here. Seriously, is it that difficult to for you? Don't be lazy and come over. You can use the exercise."

For his third appearance he stands offended with his nose up: "What? You need your festival to be promoted? Hmm alright, if you insist, but you should know that it would have a greater audience at my place... When will I help? I'll get back to you on that one. And no, I am not planning to copy your event. How can you even insinuate such a thing."

The real Belgrade's ear starts to twitch as the murmurs around him catch his attention. He turns making the others flinch and act as if nothing happened. Confused, the capital city turns back and shrugs.

The large thought bubble appears again with the figures or all the major cities with their hands on their head in various phases of frustration. "I can't stand that guy!" they all scream in unison.

"May you wear your colors with pride" Serbia says solemnly, finished. She hugs him, careful not to smear his make-up and whispers: "You are going to do such a great job." He nods sad. They look at each other and smile. The newly appointed Republic of Serbia turns to the crowd and walks towards them. Everyone wants to shake his hand and congratulate him. The woman in the white gown quietly hurries out of the building. She feels tired.

Once outside, she places her hand on the wall with her head bowed. "Alright" she says windy. "I'm ready." The woman stands, looking up at the sky. 

Nothing happens.

Getting bored, she checks her hands. There are no cracks. She checks her body. Everything is still the same. Confused, she waits a while more.

Back at the statehood party, everyone is talking in a relatively calm atmosphere. Serbia is a little sad, but tries to hold back his emotions in front of his guests. The door opens. The woman in the long white gown enters dazed like the rest of them. Her son runs over and hugs her excited. "You're alive!" he yells happy.

"Apparently" she adds a little embarrassed. 

Austria hums, searching through his ancient book. The woman sits on a table next to him trying to take a glance at the book. He moves the pages closer to him annoyed. "And?" she asks with wide eyes.

He turns a few more pages and slams the book shut. "You're fine!" he says agitated.

"What do you mean by that? I'm tired and weak, and yet I'm still here" she says baffled.

"Let's look at this logically. Have you slept or eaten well these past few days?

"Not really. I had to plan all of this. It wasn't easy."

"And there's your answer" Austria says annoyed with the entire situation. "You have the case of what the humans call fatigue. After some rest and a good meal, you will be as good as new" he says. The woman is left with her mouth open. "What? Wait...so does that mean I'm human now?"

Austria rolls his eyes, hoists her arms up, grabs her face and looks at her teeth, hits her knee with a little hammer and nods. She looks at him annoyed rubbing her hurt knee. 

"The process has started, but knowing you, it will probably take a hundred years for the process to be complete."

The woman ponders a bit and finds this new turn of events agreeable. She goes back to the party content.


	11. Collage snippets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These are a few leftover stories that I put together for your reading pleasure. Some are true, some I made up. I will let you decide which one is which.

\- A few years ago. Turkey and female Serbia talk on the phone. "I'm glad business is booming between our two countries. Finally we can rekindle our friendship" we hear Turkey's hopeful voice. Serbia is not that thrilled. "Yeah, as long as I get quality cheap goods from you, we're good. Oh and TV shows. Can't forget those" she blurts.

"That hurts me somewhat, you know. After all the time we spent together" he adds hurt.

Seeing his expression Serbia slouches embarrassed. "Your beaches are great too."

This works. Smiling again, he adds: "They really are. Much better than Greek's place. You should definitely visit. Perhaps on the shores of the Aegean sea you will find what you are looking for."

Slightly confused by what he meant by that she shrugs: "Sure, why not. For the sake of our business ties, I'll try to visit soon."

"Oh, by the way, I was thinking of doing some PR in your country for my companies. Something in the line of showing how many Turkish words there are in Serbian. How many values were left over. It's like we never left! I was thinking that the slogan could be _All that Connects us_. What do you think?"

Serbia blinks astounded. "You're really clueless to how my people view that part of history, are you?" she says annoyed. Turkey ums confused.

-After WW1 an American sculptor, moved to Paris to make masks for soldiers who had their face disfigured in the war. She made it easier for them to live a normal life.

\- In the 90s the revolt against the sanctions, the bombing and other injustices was so strong, someone decided to revolt by coining the phrase "Srbija do Tokija" (Serbia up to Tokyo). Why Tokyo? No one knows, probably sounded good. Anyway, it was a popular thing to yell out at the time. Someone even gratified it on a wall in the capital of Japan. What's even worse? The locals kept it! We see the smiling Japan approaching the wall and carefully painting around it so as not to damage it. They maintained it for a long time. I hope it's painted over by now. Please tell me it's gone by now!

\- WW1, October 1915. The three central powers combined forces to attack the tired Serbian land. During the battle, Germany looks at the fighting in the devastated landscape pleased. "You really didn't have to come all this way. We would have managed it without you" Austo-Hungary says pouty as Bulgaria stands beside him. They are all on a hill overlooking the event. The German empire takes a few steps observing the area. "I sincerely doubt it, dear brother. And besides, here I can get the last thing to fill my collection" he says calm. A red white and blue square flag with an eagle on it catches his eye. He smiles smug and approaches the hill of corpses where it is lying. He arches over to take it and is ready to walk away when a sudden tug makes him stop. The flag is not budging. Turning, the baffled country sees a bloody hand still gripping the handle. The country of Serbia, badly beaten and covered in her dead soldiers, holds on to it for dear life. The empire pulls the flag with force but she refuses to let go. He hauls it and takes a few steps forward. The flag seems too heavy. Turning back, he sees Serbia being dragged along still grasping the war flag.

"What in the world?! For Heaven sake, let go. It's just a flag! " he adds with wide eyes not loosening his grip for even a second.

"It's MY flag!" she yells raising her angry and bruised face as the battle still roars. (Not a single Serbian war flag was taken during WWI)

-A few years ago. Serbia is in her newly opened hotel. It is a very stylish modern building. Happy, she looks around when her phone rings. It's the epic cover song from an old Serbian movie "Otpisani". 

"Yes" she replies. 

"I apologise for calling so late, I need to check with you on something" Germany's harsh voice is heard from the speaker.

"Oh, it's fine. I wasn't doing much. Actually I'm waiting for a delegation from Israel. We're gonna have a presentation in this really nice new hotel I built. The view is amazing."

"Really? What's the hotel's name?" Germany asks to be polite.

"Crystal night" she replies proud. 

There is silence on the other end. "Serbia, do you know what those two words put together mean?" he asks calmly.

She frown confused: "I suppose it's a metaphor for the stars..."

"Listen to me very carefully" he says strict.

A few moments later, the female country is on a ladder bellow the big letters in the lobby of the hotel. She mutters something offensive.

"I can't believe I have to fix this, seconds before they arrive, because of something you did!" she says angry, still holding the phone while bending the N letter with her bare hands.

Germany exhails annoyed. "I really don't see why I have to stay on line and listen to this."

"Don't you dare hang up! You wait until I'm done! I don't want to die of embarrassment because of another one of your scr*w up?" she says and leans back to look at what she has done.

"It's really not my fault that you don't know basic history."

"Oh spare me. The entire early 20th century history consists of your many blunders. Do you really think I have time to memorise all of them?!... Now tell me does this mean something offensive."

As Israel arrives with her delegation we hear them talk: "It's amazing how many Jewish homes from WW2 were left intact" we hear a snippet of their conversation.

Their host waits with her delegation in the lobby. She greets them with a nervous but friendly smile as the letters above her remain relatively the same with only the N shaped into a misshaped L.

\- At the beginning of the 18th century, it seemed that Sweden was on his way to become a great power. The tall country stands next to his boss Charles XII. "He seemed to have it all. The drive, the disciplined and loyal soldiers and a great start. Unfortunately..."

Sweden asks his king: "My Lord, we have gained land and resisted a much stronger opponent. What shell we do now?"

The king smiles and looks south. "We go to Ukraine" he says determined.

Sweden looks at him confused. "We cannot really know what went through the mind of the great man, but for the sake of this historical parody, we can assume it were images of many lewd Ukrainian maidens with attributes that would put melons to shame." the narrator concludes.

"Simp."

\- The female Serbia sits in the kitchen as her son, now looking 10, comes in with his new friend. He is a boy, but not a human one. He looks like a country but does not have any markings on his face.

"Hello, there. What's your name?" she asks him friendly.

"Liberland" the boy says. She moves her head confused. "As in the micro-country?"

"That's right" he says.

"I thought that country doesn't exist any more" she says.

The boy rubs his head uneasy. "It doesn't. But I was created a little before my boss was shooed away. Now I spend my time, wandering the river."

In shock, Serbia puts on a fake smile and offers the boy some cookies. He gladly accepts and as he eats, she asks her son to come with her to the other room.

"Honey, is your friend a hobo?" she whispers.

"Kind of" the boy shrugs.

Serbia tries to remain calm: "I'm sorry of being critical of your friends but can't you find some other kid countries to play with?"

"What other kid countries? I'm the only one of my age around" the boy says annoyed. Putting his finger on his chin he adds: "I guess I can ask Sealand if he wants to play."

Serbia's eyes become wide. "On second thought you stick to your friend. Going all the way to the other side of the continent might not be such a good idea" she adds with a big sweat-drop on her face."

-In her airport, Serbia looks at something excited. "I...I found a bomb" she whispers grinning. 

"Hey everyone! I found a bomb!" she yells out at the passengers.

"I found a bomb!" she yells through a megaphone in the city.

"I found a bomb" she screams at random passers by. Looking around, she spots the national TV station. 

As the anchorwoman reads the news, she pops out and yells: "Hey guys! I found a bomb at the airport."

"You idiot!" America yells with a big vein popping from his neck. "That's not a real bomb. I planted it in the plane so you can find it!"

"But why?" she asks slouching.

"Because I needed to be sure you can find such things in planes. 9/11 remember?!" he shouts making her even more melancholic.

\- "In 1899, the celebrated physicist, Albert Einstein, and his colleague Mileva Marić (Милева Марић) hooked up in college..." We see Israels' confused face as she sits at a bar with her client Serbia. "And?" she adds baffled. Her patient turns to her with a shot glass in hand. "How many 19th century couples can you say that about? Excluding students that had relationships with their professors." Serbia concludes. Israel looks away and shrugs. "Fair point" she says sipping her drink.

-A large man stands in the centre of a dim tile hallway laughing like a maniac. He is wearing a suit and a red tie. His hands are large with curly hairs on his fingers. His hair and beard are also curly and dark brown. His slightly longer hair become shorter and shorter. His beard disappears from his still maniacally laughing face. All the curls are gone replaced with straight bleached hair oiled back. The man, still huge and in the same suit, laughs with his blond shaven makeover.

\- Haiti 1800s. The narrator speaks: "It was not easy for small communities to fight against the slavers. Their system of government probably seemed larger than life. Maybe even all-powerful and omnipotent" Haitian revolutionaries charge on the orders of their leader in a formal uniform. As they do, the leader is himself attacked and forced to defend himself.

"Yet, they had to fight because there was no other choice. If they stayed silent, they would have died anyways, relegated to a statistical sentence in some random history book." The future king of Haiti raises his hand triumphant as his soldiers cheer. As he smiles, the narrator continues: "But the suffering and the killing was not their greatest obstacle to be free and happy. Lack of education and constructive points of view made the weaker then they could even imagine.

A slightly abstract landscape. The king watches over his land, not exactly satisfied. He hears a noise and turns to the shores. A fleet of European war ships approaches. While watching his terrified face, the narrator says: "Weak enough so that, when their former slave drivers were ready, they could come and raid their land all over again."

The king's face is covered with a menacing shadow.

\- An empty place seeming more real than all the rest. Croatia stands in the middle terrified as the horrifying nature of this plain sinks in. He turns towards us trembling. "What are you doing?" he utters looking at someone. As a slender hand appears, he cowards. The hand grabs his face and with a slight move crushes it entirely. Blood and bone fragments fly as a muffled hair-raising scream is heard as the screen fades to black.

\- The same hands deform in an eerie way, presumably in the same place as before. They roam around the darkness before another familiar terrified face appears. It's Alfred who turns toward us and gasps. "No, no, no, no..." he screams before one female hand grows so large, it encompasses his body and hands. He struggles but is unable to move. Shaking and with wide eyes watching from the specs of his glasses, he tries to say something but the other hand grabs the top of his head. With a quick jerk, the head flies off the body leaving it a lifeless bloody mess. The same hands proceed to rip his left arm from the gory remains as if it is nothing more than tissue paper.

\- A dark place, somewhere between a dream and actual events of the 2000s. Serbia finds herself chained to a wooden chair in front of a council of cloaked individuals. The bright spot light makes it difficult for her to see their faces. Drained from all the mental torture, her head hangs low, her breathing is heavy. "Have you come to your senses yet? Are you ready to accept Kosovo* as an independent state?" she hears a familiar voice. 

With a sudden hysteric chuckle, she responds: "You must be mad if you think I'm going to comply with the wishes of daemon worshipers?"

Confused, the council starts to murmur. "Why would you say a thing like that?"

"What else can you be?...Look at this place! It's like a dungeon from Hell! Everything seems intentionally created to break the spirit."

There is no response as if her captors are holding their breath. "This is just a part of your delusions. Your mind is playing tricks on you in order to protect you from your shame. After all, you have done monstrous thing..." The walls of the dark dungeons project the footages of her soldiers fighting in the 90s. The scenes of civilians and victims are both traumatic and horrifying.

"Poor Bosnia. How can he recover with that obnoxious Srpska around? For once think of your poor neighbours. Once you confess you were wrong and do as we say, this will all go away" the sly voice of Britain continues. 

Still breathing heavily, she utters with a tremble: "I'm not gonna let you have them."

The council starts to hiss and curse: "You fool!"

"You are the fools!" she screams more determined than ever before. 

"Do you truly want to watch the world burn? First you started WW1, now this? A conflict will surely start because of your pig-headedness. How much blood of innocent people has to spill before you have your fill?!" he exclaims dramatically.

Moving her head to the side, she yells: "I won't let you get into my head! You know yourself that the thigs you accuse me are not true. I was as much a victim of circumstance as well as terrible neighbours and greedy empires as any other country then... Still, I have made my choice. If the world burns, it will be from your incompetence, not mine! Kosovo* is Serbia! Srpska must live!"

"You know what this means? We cannot let your behavior go unpunished. Your words have doomed you and your people" Britain utters disgusted.

Her hands hurt from the restrains. Still holding her head down, she states with a smirk: "Oh please, stop with the charade. You never needed a reason to torture me, only an excuse. But remember these words, if I die, you will too." A scuffle is heard and even more accusations. "You're a monster!" someone yells shocked.

Serbia looks up, filled with rage. "You want to see a monster! Fine! You'll get what you wished for! The only thing I need to do is nod, and everything will go off in flames! At least that way, you will see how your beloved overlords will return the favor, once you are in their realm."

All as one, the masked figures go quiet. A keen eye can notice their subtle flinches. 

-In a familiar old Yugoslavia house, the woman sits on the house staring into the lighter she keeps lighting. She does this over and over, with a blank expression on her face.

The teen Serbia enters and addresses his mother. Have you thought of a name yet?" he asks. "Not yet" she replies solemnly still playing with her lighter. "I got distracted."

The boy comes over and sits on the couch. "I thought you quit smoking after realizing those things can kill you now?"

"Don't remind me...I still remember the coughing. But a lighter is a useful thing" she says still a little zoned out. Next to her is a list of Serbian female names. The name "Yasna" is market with a question mark. "This one sounds good" he adds pointing to it. His mother looks at the list and shrugs. "Meh. I want a name that pops. Something like..." she talks while flicking her lighter again. Unsurprisingly, it has ran out off juice and only lets out tiny sparks.

"Something like "Iskra"!" she declares after a pause. "Iskra Yasnić."

Her son nods in agreement. "I like it."

"Thanks."

The boy smiles. "Do you have time to help me with some government stuff now?" he asks.

"Of course, honey. What do you need?" she says eager. 

The teen boy pulls out a huge heavy file and places it on the table. Iskra leans in as he takes one document and explains his problem to her.


	12. Final Chapter

Iskra sits on the new long couch and looks around. Everything she ever wanted to do around the house is finally done. The house is completely clean and modernised. There isn't a surface with a speck of dirt or an appliance that does not work. She sits in her new clothes with nothing to do. Her friends are still at work. Picking up the phone, Iskra calls her son.

"Hey."

"Hey mom, I'm kind of busy now. What's up?" an adult male voice replies.

"Oh nothing...I just called to check if you need my help."

"I'm fine Mom, really. But thanks for asking."

"Don't get me wrong. I don't want to butt in, I'm just..."

"Bored...I know. Hey, listen. Find something to do this afternoon and we can go out to lunch tomorrow after I finish this. Okay?"

Iskra smiles. "What did I do to have such a perfect son" she says warmly.

He chuckles. "Bye Mom. I'll see you soon."

"Bye" she says and ends the call. Puffing and arching her neck back, Iskra ponders and checks her phone again. After scrolling she makes a call.

"Hello Monaco...Yeah, it's me...Yeah, it has been a long time" she starts nervous.

"Do you have wrinkles yet?" we hear her voice.

Hiding her frustration, Iskra replies. "No, not yet. Countries keep asking me that, but, still no wrinkles..."

"Oh, good for you" Monaco sounds disappointed.

"Hey listen. I was wondering if you are still interested in that tennis match. You are? Great! Are you free now?" Iskra says relieved.

At the tennis court, Iskra is winning her third set in a row. Monaco in her fines white tennis outfit, asks for a time out.

"How are you doing that! I though you were dying or something" she blurts to the woman drinking water.

"I'm not dying yet. Austria said it will be take a long long time. I might outlive some countries even" she adds calm.

Monaco pouts. "Whatever, I'm tired of this game. Let's play something else."

"Like what."

"Like...fencing" she says a little mischievous. "It's a gallant sport that many people don't appreciate. I would understand if you are not into it."

Putting her racket on her shoulder, she shrugs confident. "I won't mind giving it a go" she says with a smirk.

In someone's living room, we see a screen on a phone and a pair of fingers moving down his Nationbook feed. A notification pops up. A new photo of a grinning Iskra adorns the screen. She is wearing a white fencing outfit as her opponent stomps on her weapon angry. The grin of the newly human face is so endearing and yet so smug that it makes the phone's owner chuckle.

In the late afternoon, the woman is back home. Not only did she manage to utterly destroy her sparing partner, she also had time to go shopping and visit the hair-salon. She returns with a few bags and a new silky hairdo. She takes out a lovely black lacy evening dress and looks at it. "Such a beautiful dress and nowhere to wear it to" she sighs.

Her phone rings. Iskra looks at the caller info slightly confused. "Hello?" Placing the dress on the couch, she paces through the room. 

"What do I own the pleasure of this call" she says intrigued. The person on the other end is not heard.

She stops mid step. "A date...Really?" she says baffled. Pondering for a second, she continues shy but flirty. "I don't know. I'll have to check my schedule...What time?" 

Hearing the answer she chuckles hiding her excitement. "Alright. I guess that can be arranged" she twirls her hair and looks at her new dress. The screen fades to white lingering on a white blank space.

In this blank room, soothing guitar riffs. A girl slowly approaches playing her instrument really well. Her electric guitar's strap is covered in rock badges. Her clothes is a hippy hobo heavy metal mix which matches her Farrah Fawcett hair. Her face shows the city emblem of Zajechar.

"And so the story end" she says plucking the strings of her guitar with great skill. "What happened then...Well, no one really knows" she states and changes to a more energetic tune. She shakes her head to yell out to the music.

A cough is heard making her stop. Alert, she looks around and sees that she is not alone. A fellow neighbor city, Bor, is sitting on the ground slouched over. He is moody and emo looking. His black straight bangs covers the top of his emblem. (Quick lore. He's industrial. She has a brewery. They can't stand each other for no particular reason.)

"Oh, I didn't know anyone else was here. How's it going?" she says sounding chipper. On the other hand, her male collocutor replies with an annoyed grunt. The female city smiles, not giving up, and moves closer. "What's wrong? You look slightly more depressed than usual" she says.

Bor coughs, still broody: "Oh just contemplating the futility of it all."

"Ah, so same as usual" she jokes. The male figure turns away and puts his arms on his lifted knees. "I don't expect you to understand my pain" he says serious.

The girl city looks at him and sighs. Her smile and optimistic expression hide their own pains. Sitting down next to him, she declares: "I may not understand it fully, but I'm willing to try" she says sincere. He looks at her still suspicious. Seeing her face, Bor sighs and coughs again.

"Are you going to do anything about that cough? It seems louder than usual."

"I'm used to it by now" he says with his head low. "What can you do? It's the plight of all industrial cities." This makes Zajechar sad. She takes out two beers out of who-knows where and offers it to him. The emo boy takes the bottle.

The female figure ponders, finishing half of her drink. "You know what? There is something you can do" she declares bold. Bor looks at her intrigued. "Like what?" he says.

The girl stands up and puts her hands on her hips. "Like moving in with me" she says making the poor boy spit out his beer.

"What?! I can't do that!" he says almost terrified.

"Oh why not. It's not like we didn't talk about this before" she says crossing her hands.

"Yeah but...You're weird" he says, making the girl raise her eyebrows in reply.

"You're loud and obnoxious!" he continues defensive.

"And you're bad-tempered and moody!"

"You think only of beer and going out!"

"And you only think about your mine!"

"You're..." he starts a little hesitant. "I'm sorry but you're a bit of an air-head. And flimsy too."

"Well, at least I don't overanalise every single detail, like you!" she retorts. The stare at each other, silent, for what seems like a decade.

"So, are you coming?" Zajechar says. Bor tries to decline with a grunt but is surprised when she takes his hand. He looks at the girl and notices a gentle smile. "Let's go" she says and slowly guides him towards her place. 

The boy stops protesting and begrudgingly accepts his fate. "Alright, fine. I guess I'll live with you. But I have to go back to check on my ore, you know."

"Yeah, yeah" she says as she gently drags him off screen. Them being completely gone, we hear Zajechar's voice. "Say, how much ore do you have left?"

The reply is a confident and carefree puff.

The blank space is vacant until a new pair of footsteps are heard. 

"I'm just saying. There's nothing I want to do with a freaking Commie" America says in his usual outfit.

"Why do you keep calling me that? I'm now as capitalist as you are" Russia adds hurt.

"Well, okay...But you're not part of NATO so that makes you..."

"I tried to join but was rejected" Russia retorts. "I don't know why you hate me so. I just want to be friends."

America ponders for a second. "No, we can't and do you know why? It's because we've always been on the opposite spectre. Always have and always will be" he demonstratively states and moves a few steps in front of him.

Russia stops and watches him confused.

"Is that why you are pushing the LGBT and woke agenda so violently? To be different from me?" he asks making the Western country flinch.

"Oh course not!" he yells astounded. "Those are my progressive ideals coming to fruition."

Russia nods unconvinced. "Oh course, of course. It is completely natural to make your own people accept it unconditionally almost over night. I am sure it will have zero negative consequences for all involved" he adds sarcastically.

"Shut up!" America shouts blushing. "You don't know that!"

Russia keeps watching the increasingly stressed figure. "So...are you gay too?"

"I'm anything my people want me to be" America states with his chest out. The large Slav country presses his lips amused. "You know...You don't have to do all this to get my attention."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...If you like me, you can just say it" Russia says calmly.

America turns stone white. Dead in his tracks, he manages to utter: "Are you nuts or something. I'm not attracted to you! I hate you with the passion of the burning son."

"So...it's only sexual" Russia concludes, making his collocutor shook to the core.

"No!" he yells way to loud and stomps away. Russia calmly follows him off screen. "It's alright, we can talk about it. If it stops the fighting... Why not?" Russia's voice is heard. "France told me all about it. Even gave me a kissing..."

"Shut up!" America's high-pitched scream echos through the white space.


End file.
